


back to the start

by callunavulgari



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Caliginous Romance | Kismesis, Canonical Character Death, F/F, Grief/Mourning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-26
Updated: 2013-02-26
Packaged: 2017-12-03 16:34:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/700388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/callunavulgari/pseuds/callunavulgari
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You're such a bitch," she says fondly. "I always liked that about you."</p>
            </blockquote>





	back to the start

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a music meme. Song was [Back to the Start by Lily Allen.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WlpLfgoI97k)

Her corpse is smiling, peering at you with dead eyes, smeared blue all over. Suddenly, you wish that your senses were as dead as your eyes, so you wouldn't have to see her rictus grin. She creeps closer to you, crawling on her hands and knees, wings crumpled and fragile against her back—already dry, bits of it crumpling away like fairy dust.  
  
"I am sorry," she tells you, her voice so very close.  
  
"No, you aren't," you sigh, tracing a claw through her blueberry bright blood.  
  
She laughs. "No, I'm reeeeeeeeally not."  
  
Her laugh is grating, makes you want to grit your teeth and claw at your ears until there's nothing left of her, until she's just a corpse on the ground like all your other friends. After a moment, her chuckles die down and her hand on your shoulder makes you tense. Hallucinations shouldn't be able to touch.  
  
"I'm not sorry about this," she says, unapologetic. "We were always going to end up here. You're too much of a goody goody and my moral compass is nonexistent. It was always going to be one of us killing the other, and Terezi, believe me when I tell you that I wouldn't have it any other way."  
  
"Shut up," you whisper, claws digging into your palms. She giggles again and you think that she might have laid her head against your shoulder.  
  
"You're such a bitch," she says fondly. "I always liked that about you."  
  
"Yes, because you're such a saint yourself," you hiss.  
  
"Were," she says, her breath against your neck. You flinch when you realize what she means, but she just continues onwards, undeterred, maybe even relishing in your discomfort. "The sooner you realize I'm really dead the sooner you can go back to drooling after Karcrab or justice or whatever."  
  
"I wish—" you start, your tongue like sandpaper in your mouth, but she stops you, a finger against your lips.  
  
"No more wishing," she says, and kisses you.  
  
The kiss tastes like tears and regret—gentler than it should be, barely even drawing blood. If she were alive, you think, she would definitely make you bleed. She was always so good at it before. You wish you could start over, the desire sudden and overwhelming. It hurts.  
  
"Keep your chin up, girl," she whispers, and then she's gone.


End file.
